Genesis drawn
by Dat fucking writefag
Summary: You've lost your path, every thing of your life became relaitve, and you stopped to believe. You regret your actions and seek repentence. But for what cost?


**Authors note: I disliked the storylines of Biohazard 4 and its follower, but still, I won't deny that I found both games pretty cool and the characters were really awesome. Let's leave it with that.**

**Another note is that I am aware of the different timelines in both games. While Biohazard 4 took place in 2004 and Biohazard 5 exactly four years later, according to an article of a game magazine, Silent Hill 3 took place in 1997, actually one year before Biohazard 2. So like any new spirited author and not giving a crap about canon accuracy (let's face it, timelines in game sagas are screwed mostly anyway), I will let have the events of SH3 be taken during 2007, about a year before Biohazard 5. You'll soon find out why.**

**So enjoy reading and have fun shouting ''FUCK YEAAAH'' after special events. Tantrix out ~**

Leon sighed as he stared at his coffee, black as the souls of the madmen he and the other agents stopped in his past. He regretted coming here, he really did. Special Agent Leon S. Kennedy was currently having his day off, a rare thing in his job, and had nothing better to do than just agree to some ''family reunion'' and sat in some French café waiting for his lousy ex-godfather. Although, ''some French café'' didn't really sum this place up.

It was a little bistro in a shopping center called ''Washington Lakewood Mall''. The café itself was labeled ''Ossian Harmony'' and gave off a somewhat Medieval atmosphere. While the windows and seats were pretty much of modern design, the tables were made of pure maple wood, Leon concluded, the surface smooth as metal. The woody walls were decorated with a mix of ancient helms, shields with old European family symbols drawn on them, and instruments like a pan flute and a harp hanging by firm pressed nails. The floor was made of gray stone, some stoic pillars attached to them at the entrance. The surrounding was full of ether scents, the correct doses giving the visitor a breath you can only get in the wild fields of Wales.

What Leon found most notable was the huge tree at the wall a few feet away from his seat, and it's branches reaching over the bistro as if it was one of the wicked trees in that old Disney movie he couldn't remember the name of. Or at least, Leon thought the tree looked like a real one. Nah, it had to be fake. Although him not being a botanist, he at least knew no tree can just grow out of some wall without having some nurture fundament like earth. Some genius must have gotten the bright idea that the shop would attract more costumers just by putting a phony tree at the most impossible angle, giving some natural aura in here. Well, it seemed to work, the cafe was really crowded, much to Leon's distaste.

He wasn't really a people man, Leon admitted. Especially after all the crap he went through, something triggered in him to give up his last remnants of his social skills on his first and last day as police man back in Raccoon City, 1998. The thought that those people, normal men and women, each differently aged, smiling at each other, and chatting about their big events of the day, would turn into deformed, aggressive monsters at any minute, sharing no longer any humanity and only possessed the restless hunger for the flesh, no matter from what living being, stopped Leon in taking any contact with the outside world. He instead focused on his work, switching the job each time too much social pressure crossed him, and he used the free time he had trying to forget that fateful day back in his hometown by reading. That's what he always did when life went wrong.

In his childhood, he turned to Edgar Ellen Poe when he felt lonely. In his teen years, unlike others, he read Dante's Divine comedy, Goethe's Faust and Homer's epics to overcome his heart breaking crushes. Also, in his college years, he studied the texts of the old American politicians, fascinated by their concepts of free will and independence. He didn't hesitate reading non-western literature either. He read pretty much everything that had any intellectual value, fleeing from the painful reality to the world of fantasy, crafting his own Wonderland. Leon's book obsession went so far that some of his one time colleagues suggested he should start looking for an optician. _Jackass._

The atmosphere of the café was also something he wasn't comfortable with, despite how others would disagree. His eyes then fell on that little chimney beside the entrance to the kitchen, letting out a modest fire. The smoke went up to the trophies of hunted moose and some crossed ancient blades, probably of Celtic origin. It could make some think back to those comfy emeriti houses in the Canadian woods, but not Leon. He stared into the fire like it had some divine knowledge in it and realized why this place gave him the creeps. The café looked an awful lot like the inners of Pueblo, a rustical village back in the depths of Spain he was sent to to free the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, from a terrorist cult called ''Los Illuminados''. Say hi to Dan Brown. The very nightmare, as bad as Raccoon city, maybe even worse, started with an interrogation at a chimney. Leon shuddered at the memories and tried to get them out of his brain by looking away from the chimney and staring at his cold coffee again. But the memories of the events four years ago kicked in. He knew he should've taken a book along, because that old bastard was getting late to his own appointment.

Closing his eyes, he embraced the horrors once more. They felt like someone was punching him with a fist full of rings again and again, never ending until the abuser was satisfied by his sick work. But he had to get over it. That's what he always did. He remembered the foul smell of death, the abounded and rotten houses, the corpses stored in the farms, the poor inhabitants turned into brutal lunatics by some sort of parasite called ''Las Plagas''.

Leon also saw the events of Salazar's castle, Saddler's fortress, the oh so famous ''It'', the sadistic, gurgling Regenerators, Krauser's final breath, his own liberation of the parasite and Saddler's transformation flashing through his mind like some distorted movie, cut so that only the most gruesome events were played. Surely nothing Leon likes to share with anyone, despite that some people deserve it. It was his burden, but he kept on living, believing that people like him were needed for a better world. Not really the best thing an American should think of, but he had his reasons. After all, he and his one time partner Claire encountered not too long ago a new infection of the T-Virus spread by Frederic Downing, former researcher for Umbrella Chemical Inc., who also caused the mass infection in India years ago. A year back, the last remnant of Umbrella, former S.T.A.R.S. leader Albert Wesker, had been taken out in Africa by his partner in crime Chris Redfield, not without a high tribute of innocent lives.

Dammit, thanks of the notion of that loony he also had to think back to Ada, a love he abounded long ago. Believing that Ada died back then in Raccoon City, she just showed up during his mission in Spain and didn't bother pissing him off by her present, showing that she worked for Wesker. He was also reminded how she pointed the gun at him when he got hold of the Plagas-sample, took it away from him and flew away, just leaving him a few keys with a cute plastic teddy clinging to it while she activated the self-destruct sequence. Great times, really, that's how you show your love to each other.

Still, Leon felt bad for Chris' mission. He didn't deny that he felt responsible for the fate of the inhabitants of Kijuju, he could've stopped it by confronting Ada, but he didn't. He couldn't stop Wesker abusing the Plagas to create Urobora because of his own laughable restrictions, and that was a huge impact on his current depression. He even stopped dating Angela because it became too much to him. Call it egoistical, but he did need time to think, even while reading. He thought about quitting the job as the President's special agent, seeing no point protecting him and his family any longer, even if he gets a happy smile from Ashley, always asking for a date. The jobs tracking down several terrorists who were using biological weapons seemed not to lessen, they became worse each time. Why should he still fight if the world was always abused by twisted individuals, not surprisingly most of them being Americans (somehow he started to agree with Saddler, much to his dismay), and since his actions seemed to have no effects except only his failure? He even realized not even he, Jill, Chris or anyone else with a sence of justice could stop mankind's ignorant walk to self destruction, partially understanding the insane motifs of Wesker by now.

What was he really fighting for?_ My past, I suppose_. That was his answer to Krauser, who interpreted it as his failure in stopping Umbrella. Was he that selfish? He once burned with the need to protect, and life as a cadet was an eye-opening experience. What happened to those days? Why did he doubt his once youthful ideals that any good hearted boy had? Why did he feel like an old fool making the same mistake again and again? Why did he start having sympathy for Saddler's hatred for America? Had Leon lost his road that much?

Funny, thinking back to those times in Spain, it always felt like some sort of video game. Like you were guided through a linear road, controlled by a unknown force letting you face the most impossible and still be able to survive. That was the same feeling he shared in his memories of Racoon City. A feeling he hated, because he feared them to be true. Was everything just a game? A dream crafted by some geeks to satisfy some 13 old boy sitting in front of the television to flee out of his boring life? Was he just a point man, being drenched through dog shit because someone finds it funny? He shook his head, reminding himself that he started to become paranoid. He really needed to find some place to calm himself down, knowing that no one will be after him. But where? He tried out Greece once, visiting the famous Epidaurus for a cure, but lucky him, some scientist was working on a new bioweapon he labeled as ''Pandora's Box'', giving it a cheesy tone of unoriginality. Still, thanks to that loony the ancient ruins were nuked by none other than the US-military, much to Leon's dismay. The only safe place seemed to be in space, he then concluded. Maybe he should sign up as astronaut. That's an every child's dream after all. Maybe even volunteering to try out any coming moon colonie-

_''Long time no see, Leon.''_

_Damn_, Leon thought,_ not now_. His streams of thoughts were disturbed by a single sentence, knocking him back to the ugly reality. He recognized the voice. The hoarse sound with a pronunciation of a very bad actor could only belong to one person. Leon opened his eyes, turning to that man and stated coldly: '' You sure took your sweet time, Douglas.'' Former police officer, now Private Detective Douglas Cartman just smiled back sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his head with an apologetic gesture: ''Sorry, kid. Something...held me back. But it's great you still came.''

Leon just huffed and studied the current appearance of his old friend, or better to say, someone who made himself appear like one. ''I am not a kid anymore, you know.'', he countered plainly, while he finished analyzing Douglas. ''And you still look like a tramp''. Actually, Douglas looked exactly the same as the last time before Leon left him, only that he had gotten older and unnaturally paler. Like any stereotypical modern detective he was wearing a small hat and a brown trench coat hiding his broad body. A tie neglect from his throat, to Leon's surprise, being adjusted right. His face was unshaved with white spores, giving a contrast to his current pale skin. But still, his charisma seemed to have got the better of him. He was even laughing to Leon's direct insult. ''Yeah, you're right, maybe I should shave again.'' He noticed Leon ogling at him as if he had just done a handstand with his hat still on his head. Douglas sighed. Kid still thinks of me as a failure, he thought bitterly. ''Do you mind me taking a seat, old friend?'' Leon, shaking himself out of his trance, stared back at his coffee and waved his right hand. ''Yeah yeah, help yourself''. Douglas took the chance and made himself comfortable in the seat opposite to Leon.

Crossing his hands, Leon studied the man in front of him again who just ordered from the waitress a coffee and some doughnuts. The brown locks of hair darkened his features and folded his hands like the strategist from that anime he watched out of boredom.

Douglas Cartman, in his late 60s, was Leon's former godfather when he became an orphan. Leon should actually be thankful for what Douglas did for him, but he couldn't. He was not really in the emotional state back then to adapt to the old grunt, who was a cop being off duty that time. It was more like that Douglas called himself his godfather out of pity, so that Leon wouldn't end up in one of those brutal foster homes. And that was actually the whole deal. They never really argued since both didn't have much to say to each other anyway. Douglas himself was playing a passive role when it came to Leon, an air of depression and self pity around him that disturbed any development of bond. At that time, he lost his son who died at an attempted bank robbery, and his wife commited suicide directly afterwards.

Maybe Douglas tried to start anew with Leon, who had also lost his old life. But both of their pasts held them back to bond with each other. Douglas became too much infatuated as detective, trying to get food at home with his lousy paid jobs while young Leon tried to overcome school and actually lived only in the library, while also getting some money by being paper boy. It was not the best family, but they did hold on to each other at some point. The only time there was any sign of bond was when Leon was having one of his old teenage crushes and Douglas was playing the _knowledged daddy _and tried to explain him how to get a girl in bed. Leon valued the event, but it didn't hold him enough not to leave the depressed detective when he became full-aged. Douglas was a constant reminder of what he didn't want to become. Neiher did he want to end up like his son. Not because of Douglas but because of the ideals he developed when he came across some speeches of Washington drove him to the police academy, trying to be of any use in life. Maybe he should've stuck with Douglas, instead of facing Raccoon City. He admitted he was glad Douglas left the town because of a case, or else he would've turned into a zombie.

Leon and Douglas stared at each other, both waiting for who would do the first move. Leon then sighed and asked: ''So what is it you called me for, Doug'? I was having a bad day back in the office and I am tired''. ''So I've heard'', Douglas answered, tipping his fingers on the counter, waiting for his order.

Leon knew he wanted to play the obvious detective with him, and he wasn't in the mood for that. ''I doubt you really want to do some family bonding here.'', he confessed to Douglas idly. Leon thought back to Douglas's message in the answering machine. The tone of him sounded dull, trying to suppress the apprehension of his. It made Leon curious to come to the sudden appointment, maybe yearning for answers or some sort of deviation from his recurring memories and guilt. ''Oh, but I want to'', Douglas just smiled back while he received his coffee and biscuits. ''That's why I chose this place out. It's known for its enigmatic aura. Do you like it?''

''Not really'', Leon answered boldly, earning a nasty look from the waitress as she went away. Leon didn't know what to do in a situation like this. He rarely used any small talk, even with the chatty Hunnigham. He was more the sarcastic guy, in his line of work a useful tool to keep himself cool. Heh, what the hell, why not give it a try? ''I see you are still working as Holmes.'' , Leon commented, avoiding asking the usual_ ''How are you?''_.

''Yes, after you left, business has not gotten any better, but I could hold over the surface'', Douglas told him, while munching a doughnut. Leon was actually not pleased by his antics of low eating behavior, but then noticed something. Douglas had several scars over his hands and part of his throat, as if someone had tried to cut him from limb to limb. What was also unsettling was that Douglas' way of eating the doughnuts seemed more like as if it was the only kind of food he had for weeks, swallowing it like a parched lion. Also, he noticed something else. The trenchcoat exposed a little hole, being covered by a large dot over the shoulder and breast bane, being much darker than the hazelnut brown jacket. Blood?, Leon asked himself, being knowledged for those kinds of marks. Did he got shot?_ Not getting any better my ass._

''So, how've you been lately, Leon? You have changed a lot since the last time I saw you'', Douglas inquired, a tingle of nostalgia sparkling in his old green eyes. _God, can't this guy try at least to speak like any normal person? _He talked like he came from a cheap Broadway theatre and got kicked out because of his emphasis. But still, Leon considered Douglas' good meant curiosity. He couldn't really blame him, anyone would be stumbled by his current personality. Once, back in the police academy, he was like any young man should be, high spirited and always helpful, not hesitating to joke and having a goofy smile plastered on his face. Now his appearance turned directly into the opposite. He didn't changed much on the inside since Raccoon City to Wesker's strongholds, but the outside is a different book. No longer did his eyes glinted full of fire, but of ice. The piercing cold blue eyes were haunting everyone who worked with him, even his brave friend Claire became a little distanced when they met again to hunt down a bioterrorist. Douglas was of no difference. Being an agent, Leon learned how to practically smell the fear from the people around him, and he felt the old detective's unsettling shifting on his seat. But still, he acted like he wasn't aware of Leon's change, much to his surprise. He seemed more being used to creepiness. Perhaps the old man got his own adventures without him, the scars giving the confirmation of his theory.

Leon gave a linguine sigh, crossed his legs under the table, and leaned at the polster, with his arm on the top of the seat. ''I guess'', he replied. "After the Harvardville incident, I have been reduced to a pen-pusher, and you know how I hate paper work.'' Douglas chuckled at the statement, being confirmed that he's still the Leon he knew. But then his smirk faded when he reconsidered it. ''Ah yes, I read about your case in the papers. Those poor people. I am glad I was on a different plane back then.'' Leon gave him that ogling look again, feeling face slapped by the sheer amount of his dumb luck. How could he manage to get away from any leak of biological weapons and Leon was practically thrown in? Leon couldn't help but wonder if that old stud also took vacation in north Spain while he infiltrated the Los Illuminados' strong hold.

But then he shook his head, asking ''Wait, my name was on the news? The government promised not to mention me''. ''Oh, you were not on the big pages'', Douglas assured him, smirking again. '' I found you being explored in the gossip papers'' Leon gave him a confused look, wondering how the guys knew of his existence, but Douglas carried on: "I am not sure how much of it is the truth they wrote about, but still, you became some sort of a new Batman to the people since that. Some even plan to give you a statue at the Central Park.'' ''Oh really?'', the special agent asked him sardonically, feeling somewhat annoyed by the sheer amount of the masses' ignorance. ''So you thought you'd get more clients if they knew about you?'' The old man looked shocked at that accusation and shook his head frantically ''No, I-''

''Or maybe you want me do a an interview with ''the Sun'' about the oh so mysterious past of Leon S. Kennedy and advertise your lousy job so that you can pay the next rent for your 4 walls appartmen-''

''LEON!'', the Detective shouted at the sarcastic young man, interrupting him from continuing. Leon stared wide eyed back at Douglas, silenced by the despair in the tone of the old man. Did he push too far? He knew the accusation was heart stabbing for the former Godfather, but still, why should Leon feel guilty and not the old runt? Douglas at the meantime was holding both hands, gesturing the special agent to calm down. ''Listen to me. I was not calling you for that and never intended to use you for any financial benefit''. Sighing, Douglas let loose of his hand and focused on his coffee, light brown like his dirty trench coat.

''I admit I was tempted'', he confessed the taken back man, sipping at his drink. ''After you reached the leaders of a high career, my cases became rarer and much worse. Don't think I am as lucky like that poser boy of a detective from those whodunits. The paying remained the same, despite my efforts of solving the cases. I was practically ruined.'', sad eyes moved back to his former godson, showing a miserable life of a lone man. ''Who knows, maybe mentioning you on some of my low-key ads would cause a line of clients standing in front of my office?''

Leon didn't know what to say. In his line of work, he was facing the greatest horrors no man would ever witness, experiencing several times his nightmares forcing him so close to suicide sometimes, and now in his own self pity he forgot the people around him. Maybe he should've helped Douglas out financially, not letting him rot in his self inflicted hell of guilt. Despite of his lack of showing any sign of love, Leon still owed the old man big time. He gave the special agent a chance to live an almost normal life. Any orphan could rarely get this opportunity.

''Douglas...'', Leon started, looking like he would burst into tears, like the boy he had been so long ago. _Dammit, when did I get so pathetic? _''I'm so sorry, I didn't know...''. An old aged hand was placed on Leon's shoulder gently, and the special agent saw the assuring smile of his former godfather. ''It's all right, son. I know what you mean.'' Withdrawing his hand, Douglas took a huge gulp from his coffee, drinking it down instantly. Washing his hand with his sleeve, the private detective continued: "Heck, I don't blame you at all. I know your life has always been tough, nobody would really want to be in your shoes. It is no surprise if you would forget a lazy old bum like me. I wouldn't even be angry at you if you wouldn't come to my funeral. Heh, imagine the mark on my grave: Cartman Douglas, abondoned godfather of Leon the Great''

While Douglas chuckled at his own black joke, Leon was feeling a sick knot in his stomach. He still didn't feel easy with him leaving that old fool behind like a wounded puppy, but was glad Douglas wasn't hating him for that.

''Anyway'', the former godfather brought Leon back to attention. ,,How about we both have some fun tonight?'' ''Huh?'', Leon blinked at him by his sudden enthusiasm ''W-what do you mean?'' ''Oh Leon, don't think I'd take you to _an amusement park _or something'', Douglas joked, unknown to Leon that this was a reference to a past case. ''I mean just a men night! Like going bowling, or knocking ourselves out at happy hours. I know! Tonight is the finale between the Broncos and the Jets! We shouldn't miss it.'' Just as if being decided, the old man just got up and stepped to the even more startled private agent. _Talk about being moody_.

''You still drinking that?'', Douglas pointed at Leon's ice cold coffee, being ignored completely. Leon, still frizzed of what happened, just waved his hand, squeaking: "Knock yourself out''. Douglas looked as if he just won the lottery and drunk the dark drink with one huge gulp, like he did not too long ago.

As Leon was getting hold of his own tongue again, he asked: "Since when did you care about football anyway?''. Leon remembered that the detective's job became too much of a high priority to let it disturb by other media. Washing his mouth with the same sleeve again, a cheery Douglas answered: ''I told you. The cases got rarer, that meant much more time in front of the TV. What, those rumors about the President watching the Games with his close workers ain't true?'' He got Leon this time.

Shaking his head, Leon countered: "No, they are true, but-'' He stopped, thinking back to those times. He really did get invited by the President many times, but Leon declined them the best he could. He developed a huge distance from the current head of America, disagreeing more and more of his policy. But still, he complied a few times, to get a few chances meeting Ashley privately without anyone thinking they were an item. Those famous ''President Football nights'' were really as romantic as the media let it show. Leon never got Football anyway. What was the deal with huge hunks clopping each other because of some ball, breaking their bones the whole time. Wasn't soccer enough? Still, He hadn't seen Douglas for a long time and it was the first time he really approached him. _Giving it a shot won't hurt, right?_

Leon sighed. ''Whatever, I need some off time anyway. But no popcorn! I hate that stuff.''

''...fine'', a discouraged detective compromised. As both paid at the checkout and made their way, Leon still felt the angry glances of the chef and the other waitresses piercing through him. For some reason, he also saw hateful eyes bulging from the tree for a second.

_Yeah, it was definitely better never to come back._

The car ride went smoother than Leon had hoped for. After he heard that Douglas lost his car because of a crash a week ago, the winsome Leon revealed his willingness to help on the surface for a second and offered the old man a car ride. He still had to smirk inwardly at the look of the detective as he deactivated the alarms of his new black Cadillac. Leon was driving through the long highways Washington is known for, piled up like they were a never ending bridge. Leon agreed to watch the Games in his apartment just a little out of town. Because he was an agent, he owned several apartments, even one near the White House and the airport, to be more flexible in his line of work.

Leon had to admit: He felt a little better than the last weeks as he drove after the sun of late afternoon. He even considered that he was in a good mood now. Especially he enjoyed the way he drove through the highway was like flying through heaven, and breathed the fresh air as the car drove through the passing wind like a lightning, regretting he didn't buy a motorbycicle yet. It was true, he still felt guilty about his ignorance to Douglas, especially after realizing he had forced himself to forget him after Racoon City, but still, it was good to meet an old face.

Whenever someone from his past showed up, it always was bad news. Learning that Ada working for Wesker was bad enough, but getting almost gutted open by someone he considered as a friend was another trauma added to his pile of shit past. The only good friend he still had was Claire, but crossing with her caused dealing with Umbrella's zombies again, and he had really hoped he was past that.

Thinking back to Ada, Leon watched Douglas sitting beside him who just stared at the windows deep in thoughts. What happened to Ada now after Wesker's demise? Did she went freelance, serving another nut job who was offering her some millions for playing their Lara Croft? Did Wesker kill her? Most likely, she didn't appear afterwards and Wesker never trusted anyone. That thought was really depressing, but he tried to kick them out whenever he thought about Ada's possible death. He has to look forward, fighting his past, not embracing it.

''My apartment isn't too far away, we can use my canvas for the Game'', Leon briefed the old detective, fighting his own stream of thoughts off. Douglas just gave a slight nod and a ''hm-hm'', but still stared outside the windows, looking somewhat melancholic. The special agent knew that side of Douglas. He always isolated himself from the world around him and shut all communications off. Even for Leon, the old man's thoughts remained an unsolvable riddle. Maybe he was remembering his cases, or he did think back to his old family, or asking himself ''Who am I really?''. Leon was never able to open Douglas up for him, and that was saddening. Still, maybe it changed a little. A little experiment wouldn't hurt.

''Hey, you okay, Doug?'', Leon inquired, not leaving his eyes from the road. Douglas looked up surprised and sighed: ,, No, it's just...'' Leon was the spectator of the old man's inner struggle shortly, his little hat hiding his feature.

''It's just...'', Douglas seemed to be unsure how to explain it. Leon saw at Douglas somewhat perplexed_. Was he ready to spill the beans that fast? Maybe he had changed too. _Douglas sighed again and turned his head to the side glass again, breaking the eye contact. ''There's something I wanted to ask you for a while'', he confessed. Leon waited after Douglas silenced, getting anticipated. ''Ugh, and that is?'', Leon pushed Douglas further, getting an unsettling feeling in his stomach. It was nerve breaking trying to focus on the empty road and still listen to the old man pouring his heart out.

''Tell me, Leon, what do you do when the past catches up with you?'', he asked. Leon was taken back a bit. A bit was too modest, he almost lost grip of his wheel.

''Wh-what do you mean?'', the special agent inquired. He didn't expect that Douglas was asking him out in that area.

''You know very well what I mean, kid.'', the old Detective pressed him, his suddenly stern face gazed back to Leon. ''Most of your missions involved biological weapons, missions people would only find in comic books and cheap Hollywood stripes. What...just happens...'', Douglas seemed to be really unsure now to expand his question, getting uncomfortable himself. He was quiet, oblivious to Leon's apprehension, for a moment, before continuing: ''Well, I mean, what would happen if...something went wrong?''

The car stopped suddenly. If both hadn't buckled up, they would've been thrown out, hitting the front glass by the sudden impulse. Douglas looked back to Leon shocked, fearing the most of him. ''Leon? Wha-''

''Get out'', was the simple answer, his hands gripping the wheels became white due to the huge pressure. The old detective was taken aback by this sudden change of voice. Leon was no longer showing any sign of amity, his gaze ice cold, a soul piercing pair of eyes making him look like a serial killer. Douglas didn't know what he just triggered. ''What? Did I say something wron-?'

''I SAID GET OUT!'', the special agent roared at him, his inner rage rising like the fire of a dragon, making the old man jump. '' GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR AND WATCH THIS STUPID GAME BY YOURSELF!''.

He has had enough of those reunions where he gets in the center of attention. Did anyone who showed up from the old days always just seem to plan to give their piece of crap on the special agent? He was tired of this shit.

Douglas was faster to obey than to struggle: He unbuckled himself panicky like he was stung by a hornet and was about to open the side doors. But then he paused, as if he was reconsidering. Leon was getting even more pissed that Douglas didn't went out, but instead sighed with his back to him: ''So you really did screw up. I wasn't expecting this from you, son''.

'' I DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT YOUR LET-DOWN, YE OLD FUCK!'', Leon screamed at him, his fire getting heated up even more. After all those years they didn't met, those years where both seperated themselves from each other, that fat dump didn't have anything better to do than to be disappointed of him? What was he_, his dad_?

''GET OUT, NOW!'', Leon insisted, slamming his hand on the car pelt brutally to point out he wasn't the kind of guy someone should fuck with.

Douglas reconsidered to get out, seeing with how much force Leon abused his own car. He was reaching for the latch, but stopping himself again. ''No'', the old Detective replied, buckling himself up with trembling hands. Leon was about to lash at him at his blind rage, but the defenseless position of Douglas, the shaking body of his was holding him back. No matter how much that old sack deserved it to get the crap beaten out of him, he still was an innocent citizen, someone Leon protected, not abused. The law was holding Leon back, and the detective knew it. But still, it seemed to be a strife of life for Douglas not to wet himself being at the claws of an agent of the government, let alone his former godson.

The old detective breathed in and out sluggishly not to let his blood pressure raise, and looked back to Leon a little more determined:'' You..can do...whatever you want...but I... ain't leaving.'' He got control over his lungs again and then concentrated on an contempt breathe. Then he looked fully determined:'' Not until you answer.''

Leon's anger, which was incredibly high, suddenly vanished, feeling somehow empty on the inside. Why did he get so antagonized to the poor detective? Of course the private detective was asking out of curiosity, but... how did it went that far off? For just a minute they were all like best buddies, and it suddenly changed by a little question.

All the guilt he developed through the years, the sick feeling of failure in all his missions, the fear of losing it was suddenly released to the most unlikely person Leon ever would think of. Him, the allegory of guilt and failure. He gave a chuckle to the bitter irony, which erupted into a hollow laughter, his arms falling to his sides. He continued laughing until his head rested on the fringe of the wheel. He became silent, aware of making himself ridiculous in front of his former godfather, but he didn't care. Douglas lost his sense of laugh a long time ago, and just waited patiently for Leon's answer.

''Why do you care now?'', the question lulled out of Leon, avoiding the question again. His head raised from the wheel slowly and he tried to collect himself.

''After all those years you could have always called me to ask this, but why now?'' The once hard piercing eyes were now soft and vulnerable, looking at the old detective with a sad expression. '' I had no one to rely on, Douglas. No one. Not even Claire Redfield. You know, the other survivor back in Racoon City.''

Leon paused and looked away, sighing: "Don't think my life working for the government is living like James Bond. This is reality we are talking about, real humans in flesh and blood I have to target and kill. I was all alone in those missions, fighting madmen and their monsters not even you can imagine. My main priority was always trying to survive those horrors, not getting succumbed by my madness. And you know why?'' His eyes, flashing suddenly, locked on Douglas again, who was eager to listen: ''So that the same shit, like what happened our home town, won't ever happen again. I have seen their faces, Doug, faces of once normal humans and animals. You could've been one of them. I couldn't protect any of you.''

Douglas remained quiet, his eyes wide raised as if he saw his own ignorance as well. Not feeling like laughing at the reversed roles, Leon leaned his head at the back of the pollster and continued: ''Imagine that, Doug. The whole world is at your hands, like a Damocles sword swinging over you. One wrong move and it's all over. Then it's all over.'' He felt tired, his brain void of even the meaning of happiness. He wished Douglas would've never asked and instead waited for the Games.

''So why, all of the sudden? Don't think I fall for your little compassion bullshit. It's too late for that.''

Douglas, who now saw the true side of Leon, still remained quiet, his eyes looking down, thinking about the next move. He's right, the private detective thought. It's too late for me to reach for the kid...but still, I have to try. Douglas sighed as he decided his course. Might as well get over it.

''The why, Leon...it's too complicated to tell you everything right now'', he admitted. Leon, his head still laid on the polster, looked up to Doug, waiting patiently.

'' You see...'', Douglas started. ''My past errors have caught up with me. And I want to save what is left.''

Leon suddenly blinked. Since when did detectives get cryptic? ''What do you mean past errors ?''

*CRRSHHK*

Both jumped by the sudden screeching sound. Leon gasped from the sudden pain as he jumped high enough to bang his head against the metal top. He quickly collected himself from the sudden daunt and rubbed his head, cursing loudly. Douglas on the other hand took the shock for worse: His face contorted into a terrifying expression and his eyes dashed everywhere and turned his head around every corner, breathing hysterically as if he saw a ghost.

Leon calmed himself down and gave a frustrated sigh:,, It's just my communicator. I think I am needed in the head quarters.'' Despite the unsettling look of Douglas, Leon took out his little black radio and pressed it at his right ear casually. ''Hunnigan, what is it no-''

*CRRRRRRSHSHHHSKSSSHK*

''AAAAAH!'', Leon screamed out of the pain ending his ears, separating the communicator from his head. Holding his ear to muffle the sonic rays in his already abused head, Leon studied his device . There came no reply, it just continued with the same monotone flicker, only getting louder for some reason. ''Is this thing broken or something?'', the special agent wondered out loud confused, turning the radio.

''Hit the road!'', Douglas suddenly snapped at him panicky. Leon looked up taken back, stumbled by the ferral tone and look the detective gave him. He looked like he saw the same ghost again and lost his mind.

Leon huffed back at him, while he positioned himself to drive again: ''Screw the Games, we'll be heading to the HQ! Something's going on-''. The sudden click of a certain weapon stopped Leon turning the keys. His head turned shocked to his side and saw an old revolver leveled at him.

''What the hell?'', Leon shouted at the sheer irritation that someone he considered as a former godfather pointed the gun at him. _Has he lost his mind completely?_

''Leon, don't force me to'', Douglas warned him, his eyes suddenly flashing dangerously. ''Drive the damn car to your apartment now!''.

Leon eyed the threatening old man apprehensively, but couldn't take the risk and charged the juice. This guy's serious, Leon thought as he pulled the leveler and drove with full force. Finally he could give the president a perfect reason to forbid football.

''Don't think this is over!'', snapped the special agent at Douglas, who still pointed the revolver at him. He still couldn't believe that his former godfather, a guy who wouldn't even harm a fly, would threaten his life! Was he working for someone? Countless theories shot through his brain, all leading to the same conclusion: Douglas was part of it. Whatever ''it'' was, he would find out soon enough. ''You've lost it, old man! You've completely lost-''

''Quit whining and keep driving'', Douglas, unmoved by Leon's antics, barked at him. Leon reconsidered if he should just step on the break and take the slow reflects of the detective as an advantage to disarm him, but then disregarded the thought. That annoying sound seemed to force Leon to comply. The static sound emitted from the communicator wasn't something he believed was normal. It reminded him more of a broken TV having a bad connection . Whatever the reason, the static grew stronger, worrying him more than the old gun of the detective. Maybe he should shut it off-

Suddenly something rammed the back of the car. Both the men shook from the sudden impact, Douglas losing hold of his revolver completely. The special agent was tempted to get the weapon, but instead looked at the side mirrors trying to figure out the attacker. ''WHAT NOW?'', Leon shouted out of frustration. He blinked because he couldn't recognize anything behind him. It looked like a huge shadow hiding any feature. _What the-_

The car was rammed again, making Leon lose control over the vehicle for a moment. '' HURRY, LEON!'', Douglas screamed at him desperately, having hold of the revolver again, but instead clinging it to the chest closely like he had an open wound. Leon didn't need to be told twice and pressed the pedal even harder. But a sudden thought crossed Leon's mind. Wait a minute.

''Are these guys after you?'', the special agent asked the detective aloud, trying to cover the frantic statics.

''Not only.'', came the abrupt answer, only leaving Leon more confused. ''Look, just get us to your apartment, they won't follow us there. I'll explain everything then!''.

Leon huffed annoyed and concentrated on his driving, but the sound of his radio took a great deal of his focus. But as he pressed the pedal deeper, he noticed that the static lessened, and he calmed himself down alittle. Leon looked in the side glasses again and realized that the once overwhelming shadow drew back. He wondered if this car, or whatever it was, was responsible for the broken radio. In his line of work he learned about certain devices which jam electronics by emitting sonic sound waves. Heck, there are even grenades made for confusing radar frequencies. Would explain why communication had been blocked and especially why Douglas was going wild. His statement proved that he had some dirty little secret he had to find out, one way or the other. He had to hold on; it wasn't as far from home.

They both reached a hilltop, guiding the car to a really high level. Leon recognized the tip: They were near the end of the highway and would soon reach the exit of the town, where Leon settled near the woods. They went higher and so higher, both feeling the grip of escape. But the hope of leaving the threat was crushed to pieces as Leon stopped the car not too far from a great chasm. Leon and the detective on the top of the hill looked shocked that the road downhill was gone; the description that some monster teared the concrete from existence was actually really fitting. This was a clearly a predicted trap.

''FUCK'', Leon screamed out, hitting the wheel out of the frustration. He looked back to the stiff Douglas, who now looked like a shell of his former self. ''Any ideas, detective?'', he asked sarcastically, knowing that he wasn't getting any help from the old fool.

''We can't turn back'', he simply stated still looking at the broken bridge. ''They'll kill us instantly if we cross with them.'', his panicked eyes turned to Leon and his voice became a whimper. ''Maybe even worse''. Leon was appalled by the concept of the stubborn detective being crept out that much. The stalkers seemed to be serious business.

Suddenly, the static sound became stronger, making Leon desperately look for a solution. They were cornered like mice in a test labor, finding their ends one way or the other ruefully. He had little time at hand.

''We can't go back'', Leon repeated Douglas' warning, clinging tighter to his wheels. ''Meaning we have to go forward.'' Douglas looked at the special agent skeptically, wondering if he had snapped totally. Leon turned the pedal and drove backwards a little, only to stop again. Douglas looked like sitting on a electronic chair and held Leon's shoulder panicky. '' THIS IS MADNESS, LEON!'', he screamed into his ear like a bully to his defensive victim. ''YOU'LL GET US KILLED!''. Leon wasn't really moved, feeling the irony of reversed roles again.

''Hey, you wanted to watch the Games so much, so beat it'', Leon replied, his voice catty. His only focus was the obstacle of a chasm. What Douglas didn't know but would learn soon enough, was that Leon did stunts like this in any mission. They were kicking his adrenalin, challenging his own limits even more than a fight to the death. The situation was always the same: _Little mistake, and you're history._

Leon closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He remembered the time as he drove on that chariot through Plagas mines, where he reached the dead end at full speed and was forced to jump over several meters to reach his goal, making even the Olympic sprinters green of envy. If he made a wrong move a little sooner or later, he would've fallen into the black void, meeting his death. The chasm between the broken ends seemed familiar to Leon, as if the darkness were always near him, waiting to engulf him. He knew he would meet his death if he would keep going like this, but he was determined to survive. The special agent wanted to help his god father, despite that this old fool drove him into his own mess. Maybe it was some sort of redemption, now able to clear some of his better past up.

Time went slower for Leon, like a god disobeying all laws of physics to give the agent the one moment to strike. He felt his heartbeat slow down, his breath deep and concentrated. He became oblivious to the world around him and Douglas' frantic pleads. The only thing his senses relied on were the pedal where his boots layed on like a crouching cat, and the static sound, waiting for it springing into life like a starting signal.

The static busted into an orgy of agonized cries, and he suddenly felt the dangerous shadow creeping up to the car with the intent to take the driver down. Leon opened his eyes in the split of a second. He hit the pedal with all his strength and drove forward.

As fast as a Speed racer, the car drove near the cliffs over the abyss. The sound of the tires rasping over the concrete were mixed with the static and the eardrums of both men felt like they were about to explode. Then, the car lifted and flashed over the chasm like a jump of a gracious gazelle. Leon and Douglas screamed, one with determination and one with the suggestion that he was about to wet his pants. A few meters away and the car sunk as quickly as it raised, and the upper half landed on the opposite edge with a rough hit. The truck was now on a razor's edge, balancing between the concrete and the black void. The detective and the agent stopped screaming and comprehended just their success. Both sweating, they breathed like an exhausted horse.

Instead of celebrating that they made it to the other side, Leon felt the weight drawing to the back side, making him click that the car was only half way reaching the goal.

In reflex, Leon pressed even deeper into the pedal. ''Com'on'', Leon whispered with his teeth clinging to their associates as if opposite strength would break them. ''Com'on, I know you can do it!'', he further soothed the car as if it was a living car and it was about to complain, but still his upper tires gained hold over the floor and rolled with a dead will to drive on safe land. And by changing the switches and again pressing as hard as steel, the car was finally making it and drove its back part on safe land. While the special agent calmed himself down pretty quickly, Douglas started to cough and breathed like he had asthma, which he probably did.

''I - am- '', the old detective coughed up, his sweaty skin made him resemble a dying sea bear.''-Too old- for this shit!''

''You...tell me'', Leon said back plainly, also breathing like he had tried to carry a tank. He opened the window and drew his head back to where they jumped off. The follower, or at least some sign of anything, was nowhere to be seen. Instead the night broke in, and a dark cloak hid all features beyond the cliffs. The special agent looked perplexed. Wasn't it still midday a few minutes ago? He didn't notice the change of time when he was hunted by some berserk stalkers, probably pawns of a higher up criminal. The change of course unsettled Leon and he drew his head back, asking Douglas, '' Do you think we have lost them?''

Douglas, still driven up as if he just came out of a roller coaster, franticly shook his head. ''No'', he replied with a huffed tone. ''They are gritty and would try a different _way_.'' Leon became even more unsettled at the last word. Douglas should have said ''road'', but instead took a such ambiguous word with a clearly intended emphasis. ''We are safe in your apartment. I swear it.'' the promise wasn't really soothing but boosted Leon's paranoid thoughts. The special agent shook his head and let his car spring to life again and drove to his home, the road being crowded by skyscrapers with the height of Babel reaching the pit and starless sky. Another wonder for Leon was how quiet this part of the town became. Eventually the streets were pretty lived up, disturbing Leon from his little sleep he could offer himself, but now there wasn't even a bark. Worse, the streets seemed…empty…as if someone just cleansed the whole part with a broom from all life. ''Sorry about the gun, kid'', apologized the detective. Leon looked to Douglas surprised, forgotten about his threat not too long ago. ''I kinda freaked out and couldn't think right. But I wouldn't have fired anyway'', he pulled the revolver out and opened the cylinder. He turned it upside down and shook to release the cartridges. None came out. ''See? Not loaded'', he grinned proudly at Leon again, receiving the same ogling look again.

Sighing, Leon turned the car to the next corner, one step closer to their goal. ''For just a minute there I thought—'', Leon stopped as he sniffed suddenly at the change of air and shuddered at the sudden stench carving in. ''Ueegh,Jesus'', Leon mumbled, his left hand closing his poor nose. '' Are the litter servics going on strikes again?''. The once fresh air Washington was so known for turned into a terrible smell of decayed corpses. Leon would have maybe considered a butcher dropped illegal bought meat somewhere, but by the scent it seemed to be of decayed tissues, probably left dead weeks long.

The special agent parked in front of his home. While Leon stopped on his private parking place and pulled the e-brake, he was met with a look of awe from Douglas. ''Are…you living there?'', the poor detective asked, pointing with his arm over Leon's face to his house and followed annoyed the course of the little stubby fingers. His 'home' resembled more of a Victorian palest, adorned with several well ordered little gardens in front of the entrance, in the middle a spring where satyr statues were shooting water on a naked women who were posing of enjoying it. Whoever made that design has never dated a girl before.

Leon just huffed and ignorantly pulled the arm of his godfather back to it's owner. ''Don't think I decided living there, it's more like an order from the higher ups.'', he replied casually while he unbuckled himself. Suddenly the radio started to burst into life, emitting the same weird static once more. Leon looked confused at his device as Douglas' panic rose again and quickly tried to get out, being hold back by his own buckle. Leon's head shot up and tried to calm him down: ''Hey, take it easy—''

''We have to get into your apartment, now!'', Douglas screamed franticly, now releasing his hindrance. ''Which room's yours?'', he asked as he opened his door.

''Uhh, it's 208?'', Leon just stated flatly, being weirded out by the old man's antics. Was it about the Broncos, or the stalkers? Before Leon could ask Douglas exited the car and ran into the entrance. ''Hey, wait up!'', he called after him, locking the car quickly to follow him.

The special agent felt ashamed thinking this, but he really had problems catching up with the clumsy detective. That guy ran like he held the Olympic torch. Skipping by the well ordered garden and the creepy spring, Leon made it in the entrance, the doors opening automatically. The inners were a huge hall, built up with the similar stuck up style rich hotels shares, added with the cliché of a chandelier. Like on the streets, the hall was empty, even the receptionist was missing. Had someone just pulled an atom bomb and just eradicated all of mankind without him noticing? _Where was everybody? Bingo again?_

Leon saw a flash of brown on one of the two huge white circular stairs leading upstairs, where in the middle was an elevator settled, and Leon followed the trail. He preferred the elevator, but some inner instincts held him back instead suggesting him to use the stairs. It wasn't that far from his room anyway. While he stepped higher and higher he felt that the static became even stronger. Also, he felt someone was following him, hearing steps behind him. He stopped and looked back, but saw no one. The stepping sound vanished as well, replaced by even higher static sounds. Leon shook his head, telling himself that damn radio was making him imagine things, and went further upstairs. Suddenly the lights started to flicker and went up and down, pressing the special agent to run faster. He then reached the second floor and went to his room, meeting up with an impatient looking detective.

As he saw the special agent coming, Douglas commanded him roughly: ,,What are you waiting for? OPEN UP!''. Leon went from annoyed and confused to literally pissed and took his keys out, restraining himself to punch the damn detective. As he opened the door, he felt Douglas rushing into his apartment. ''You're welcome?'', the baffled agent asked sarcastically and entered quietly. Leon turned and was once more baffled: He saw Douglas sitting on all fours and he started to draw something. Using a red sharpie. On his really, REALLY expensive floor.

''WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?'', he roared up, his piss-0-meter reaching the limit 10 and above. He was about to pounce over him, but was met with a determined raised hand, implying to halt. Douglas looked up and his features darkened. ''This will protect us'', he stated plainly, and returned to his started work. Leon was about to raise his arms enough to cry a scream of frustration. But then he felt that he didn't having any power left and just gave a long sigh, letting his arms hang on both sides. Instead he let his anger out on this shit of a communicator and wanted to throw it out of the window. But then the static stopped as if it never existed. Leon looked back at his hand dumbfounded and studied his device carefully. Were the batteries empty?

He witnessed a relieved sigh from his room abuser and saw him getting up. ''That was a close call'', Douglas said, sweating again like a pig. Leon looked at him awkwardly and looked back at the picture. It turned out to be some kind of pentagram, as far as the agent can judge. But it differs from the usual symbols. Instead it was a huge circle, where three other circles and somewhat archaic symbols were drawn in the inner. All the little circles had a line entering the inside, while it turned to the middle. It looked like some sign, but Leon couldn't even tell when he saw the symbols of the Los Illuminados. Did Douglas become religious now? What was the sign portraying? What connection did it have with the weird behavior of the radio?

Thousand questions shot through his head, and he turned to his old godfather who looked apprehended. He turned from the dark looking creep into the same soft Doug' Leon remembered, but the agent has had enough of his bullshit. ''Leon-''

''You suddenly showed up in my life again, forced me to drive you to my home, with a gun,doesn't matter if it wasn't loaded, we were being attacked, a fucking bridge suddenly disappeared, and everyone is gone!'', Leon interrupted him with a snarl, his voice dripping with venom. '' And now you just ruined my floor which would give that asshole of a chief executive who hates me with all his guts a reason to throw me out, and YOU JUST CAN STAND THERE!'', he screamed, as he grabbed the japing detective at his sleeve. He took all his strength to yank him into the air, where shocked green eyes met the steel hard eyes of the agent, underling a cold wrath to be released. ''Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the crap out of you now?'', he growled, his one free hand being balled into a tight fist.'' And don't think I'll let you watch the Broncos winning!''

''L-Leon'', the old man stuttered, grabbing Leon's arm as he flyed hopelessly in the air ''I-I need your help-''

''Oh you mean_ those gentlemen _following us?'', Leon just contered, feeling even more motivated to hit him. He pressed Douglas at the next wall brutally to have better hold of him and heard a muffled cry of pain coming out the old detective. ''What is it, Duggy? Has some Mob boss lend you cash and you couldn't repay him? And you hoped I, the oh so famous Leon fucking Kennedy, would help you out?''

''NO!'', Douglas shot back, trying to focuse not getting a heart attack. '' This is important, Leon! You need to save mankind!''.

Leon just heard his statement and tried to comprehend it. He went as far to comprehend it that his rage was replaced by even more confusement, and stared back with empty eyes. ''What?'', was the only thing he could say, lifting Douglas down to his feet.

The old detective sighed in relief of not getting punched and continued: ''I'm sorry I have to make it hard right now, but you are the only one I could rely on.'' He paused, as he watched the poor Leon still not comprehending what this was all about, and asked the questions about a name Leon hoped he would never hear again:

_''Do you remember a town called Silent Hill?''_


End file.
